The Dirt-y north

Killing you loudly with the Dirtbombs

By Duncan Scott Davidson

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

Though Noise Pop 2006 technically begins on Monday, March 27, it doesn't officially get rocking until Detroit's Dirtbombs "Start the Party," as they said on 2003's Dangerous Magical Noise (In the Red). The Bombs feature two drummers and two bassists, which, for the uninitiated, may instill fear of Grateful Dead–style "space" jams, but by no means is there a deadhead trip-out going on in Murder City. Frontman Mick Collins has most certainly come to rock you, San Francisco, but the Bombs are setting that up on the bar with a rollback. Think about it. It's only logical: Double your rhythm section; double your groove. Certainly makes the band as fun to watch as it is to dance to. My favorite Dirtbomb is Ko, the one responsible for the "fuzz" superdistorto side of the bass clef, as she's about as tall as her Fender Jazz bass is long. The band's Web site lists her first show as Elvis, at age two, and while it states she cried through the whole thing, I can definitely see some of E's spirit shining through, as well as some of his '70s kung fu moves.

And while the band dropped a whomper-stomper of a 52-track double CD last year, If You Don't Already Have a Look, the milestone in their discography — where they really catch fire onstage — is their 2001 deep black slab of soul covers, Ultraglide in Black (both In the Red). It's got to be one of the all-time top 10 moments of rock genius when Collins grafts the echoed-out intro of the Bauhaus goth classic "Bela Lugosi's Dead," à la Frankenstein's monster, onto the ghetto funk of Curtis Mayfield's classic "Kung Fu." That alone is worth the ticket price.

Labelmates Atlanta, Ga.'s Black Lips sound like the Yardbirds bum-rushing the ghost of Blind Lemon Jefferson on Brian Jones's grave during a Category 5 hurricane. Then the whole thing is piped through two Campbell's soup cans hooked together by a transatlantic piece of yarn and recorded at the other end by the best mono tape deck Radio Shack has to offer. They're described by one Amazon reviewer as "so bad live, they make themselves spontaneously puke." Sounds like rock and roll waiting to happen. Or wanting to happen, you decide.

Another In the Red band, Los Angeles's the Lamps, get compared to Collins's famous first band, the Gories, a lot. But to me, fed from the nipple of early-'90s noise rock, they bring to mind the one-two guitar stomp of Vertigo, with a lot less anger management and NYC Sonic Youth–like disaffection, all hopped up on bathtub meth and guzzling Tabasco-and-Jack cocktails. Any band with a song titled "20 of Monkey" is something to be mighty afeard of, Jethro.

Openers Sensations are billed on the Noise Pop site as "feat. Greg Loicano of Mother Hips," which for me can be translated as "show up just late enough." However, if his new band is anything like the garage-exploding triumvirate that follows, maybe Mr. Loicano has sufficiently redeemed himself — or at least distanced himself — from the Birkenstock rock of his earlier years. *

THE DIRTBOMBS, BLACK LIPS, THE LAMPS, AND SENSATIONS

March 29, 7:30 p.m.

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

$15

www.ticketweb.com